Photograph
by kiss-her-theta
Summary: The Doctor resorts to a photograph to save him from the darkness... Implied Rose10, some Martha.


A/N: I'm back!! Yes, finally of waiting for my evil little plot bunnies to come home, they're back!!!! And, now, so am I!!! Oh, and just a warning, you might want some tissues for this one, I think the bunnies just re-watched Doomsday…

Disclaimer: Not mine!! Yet…

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Martha was wandering through the TARDIS, wondering where the Doctor had gotten to this time. She had been traveling with him for almost a year, and yet she still didn't understand him. Sometimes he just sat around, and stared blankly at something, as if he was totally tuned out to the world. Other times, all someone had to say was one word… just one, and he'd be gone. It was like he was hiding his soul to the world, as if he'd gone through a huge emotional trauma, which he wouldn't let anyone see. Not even her. And that _hurt_. But none the less, she wandered, searching. Eventually he'd have to either tell her, or she'd leave. Not that she was planning on staying forever or anything, this was just temporary. Like a holiday of sorts.

She realized then, that she hadn't been home for a long time. She'd gotten so caught up with traveling, she hadn't really thought about how her family felt. She hadn't been home for quite a while, it kept getting pushed aside. She'd never really stopped, and thought about why. But then again, they never stopped. Always running, always moving, but never truly stopping.

Martha was drawn out of her thoughts when she heard a loud clatter, as if something had been knocked over. When she arrived at the source, she found the Doctor bent over a smashed photo frame, tears welling up in his eyes. _He doesn't know I'm here…_ she thought to herself. And it wasn't just now, when he literally didn't realize she was standing in the doorway. Sometimes it was as if the Doctor was looking straight through her, and seeing someone else in her place. In the dark depths of her heart, she knew who it was. Who _she_ was.

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The Doctor had been lying on the floor of the olden-style lounge room, reading one of his favourite books, which was about the science and technology that the Time Lords developed to ease time travel. The lounge had a warm feeling to it, with its deep red curtains (not that there were actually any windows), dark leather couch, and the darkened wood of the fireplace, which was currently emitting a warm, golden glow for him to read by. He'd read it hundreds, if not thousands of times. But this time it was different. All it took was one word. _…Void… _That was all it took, to change a strong, seemingly fearless Time Lord to a weak and devastated man. Memories flooded his mind, and he felt an overwhelming urge to reach for one of his lifelines, one of the things that saved him from insanity. Placing his book on the ground, he picked himself off of the ground, and walked over to the mantelpiece, where he kept various trinkets and photos on display. But there was only one thing he needed right now. Reaching past a large statue which had been given to him from the leader of a far off planet, he pulled out a photo frame. The frame itself was nothing special, just a gold rectangular frame, with light design work around its edges. But the photo inside was probably one of his most prized possessions. To an outsider, it would look like a man, in his early thirties, standing behind a younger blonde girl, with his arms wrapped around her front. They were standing on the top of a viewing platform, and the wind had given their cheeks a flushed pink tinge. They were smiling at some private joke, their eyes shining with their joy. But to the Doctor, it was so much more. He saw two people, who obviously loved each other deeply, sharing a soft moment together.

The Doctor was jerked back to reality when he heard his name being shouted. Stunned, his grip on the frame faltered, and it went tumbling to the ground. It a mocking slow motion, the Doctor could only watch as it hit the ground face first, the glass of the frame shattering into millions of tiny pieces. He fell to his knees, uncaring if the tiny shards dug into his flesh. Everyone else would've just gone, '_Oh well, it's just a frame! I'll get a new one.'_ But not the Doctor. Because that frame hadn't been his. It belonged to the young, beautiful, smiling woman in the photo. The Doctor had believed that if he closed his eyes, he could still sense her bringing out the photo and the frame, and asking him if he could fix it up for her, because the screws were too tight. That he could feel her standing behind him, watching his movements, her warm breathe on his neck, and her smell that was just so unique to her drifting around the room.

But she was gone now, and so was her frame. The shattered remnants another part of her that had been ripped away from him. And he reached out for the photo, pulled it to his heart, and cried.

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Please please review!!!! makes cute, sad face at readers


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